


cloaked in the same shadow

by bramblecircuit



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9785048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bramblecircuit/pseuds/bramblecircuit
Summary: “If you need help forgetting…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible. “...all you need to do is ask.”Ethan gives Vanessa a moment of comfort.





	

“Tell me what you saw.” Vanessa pulled Ethan’s shirt closer around herself and shivered into the fabric. It was too hard to look at him. She might seem stable, one hand cradling another, but a wind inside her chest whipped up all the tree branches and scared away all the songbirds.

She pressed her hands together. There was fear in her, yes. But more urgent was the gravitation towards his arms, the steady pull between Earth and crescent moon. She was helpless against his orbit; it was only a matter of time until she let go.

Ethan watched her breathe, a soft ache blooming in his throat. A part of him wanted words as his weapons, logic and simplicity instead of the guns at his belt. Then he could give her the kind of reassurance that would blossom into hope. He wanted that security for her. If he knew how, he would reach a hand into her thoughts and pick out the thorns.

“Tell me, Vanessa. What was it this time? A nightmare?”

“No.” She pulled her hand from his and slid from the edge of the bed. The light of the room was hardly sufficient to illuminate her figure, and she stood half cloaked in darkness, the outline of her silhouette fading into the shadows.

“Then what?” He urged her on, pressing his hands together to impress the feeling of her touch onto his skin.

“A daydream. But one I couldn’t get out of, one that trapped me in its snares. Have you ever felt that?” She turned to look at him. “Your imagination turning against you just when you thought you were safe?”

Ethan thought of the way his thoughts would suddenly transform into memories. How the hunger of his wolf would beat through his blood and spit at the life he strived for, roaring for something more substantial.

“I suppose I have.”

“Then you know it’s impossible to escape.” Ethan stood up, resting his hands in his pockets.

“Not impossible.” Ethan approached her until both of them were cloaked in the same shadow. He took her hand with the same tenderness he would use to pick up a lost bird and gently rubbed her fingers. “I know a few things that help.” Slowly, he moved one of his hands from her fingers to her wrist. He looked up at her as if asking permission, the soft brown of his eyes tempering the pale ice of hers.

She closed her eyes, and he moved his hand a few inches higher.

“There will always be demons in our heads, Vanessa,” he murmured. Having reached the rolled-up cuff of the shirt, he let go of her and stepped back. They shared eye-contact for a moment, unspoken promises flowing through their gaze. _I won’t let you hurt yourself,_ he told her. _I want to be with you forever, _she told him back.__

“If you need help forgetting…” He trailed off, his voice barely audible. “...all you need to do is ask.” Vanessa watched him, her nails digging painfully into her palms. In one swift motion, she took hold of his collar and pulled him to her lips. Words were difficult. Words were tempered in an iron forge of social acceptability, of poise and expectation. This language was _theirs_ —warm and dynamic and all-encompassing in its furor. She moved her hand to the back of his neck and felt him close against her, his arms tight around her back. She tasted sparks in him, a boldness that made leaves grow and flowers unfold. Somewhere within him lived a wolf, but along with it came the forest, came the sunrise, came the birds and all of their songs. 

She kissed him more intensely, willing him to see the beauty of his hands on her, the wild comfort he brought. Monstrosity could be beautiful. An old rule of witchcraft: if you are scared, find something scarier to protect you. 

He pulled back. A faint smile played on her lips, and matching happiness bloomed in his chest. She was his. He could touch her without fear now; he could look at her with more than hidden longing. 

Vanessa moved his hands to the buttons of her shirt. He unloosed them swiftly, the motion like leaves falling from a tree. Carefully, he slid the fabric from her shoulders and pulled her arms free. 

Vanessa stepped forward to embrace him, releasing a sigh at the feel of the air against her skin. Delicately, he stroked her shoulders, casually slipping them free from the thin silk. He leaned forward and whispered into her hair. “What happened in the daydream?” 

“Dark things.” She tightened her hold on him. “Running, my clothes torn. A shadowy creature chasing me.” Slowly, he slid a hand down her side, the stops and starts making her breath catch. “I was alone. No one to protect me.” She pulled the fabric of his shirt into her hands; she felt she might collapse if she lost her hold, the practiced movements of his fingers enough to make her swoon. 

"No one?” He moved one hand to her waist and teased the lining of the fabric. 

“Not even a crow.” She gasped when his hand slipped under the last layer and touched her skin, the strong, calloused fingers tracing patterns up her ribcage. She felt nothing but his touch, sensed nothing but the pressure of their bodies, the smell of gunpowder and herbs on his shirt. 

“How do crows protect?” He kissed her collarbone. Carefully, he bit the soft skin—not enough to leave a mark. Just enough to make her pulse race. Just enough to nudge her a little closer to complete abandon. 

“They warn, they, they... _Ethan_ …” She gave up on the sentence and pressed herself as close as she could to his chest. Other people weren’t _like_ this, _no_ —other people could only get to her with violence, with a fury to match her own. Only then would she relinquish herself, but Ethan could take her apart with the simplest pulls of his fingers. He had his heat, yes, but Ethan wasn’t fire. He was _life_. 

A slow burn crawled its way up Ethan’s spine. He loved Vanessa no matter the circumstances, no matter the expression on her face. He would love her in her sadness and her laughter and her fear; he would love her through nightmares and horror and full moons; he would love her with conversation and comfort and gentleness, but _this_ , the way she clung to him and came undone at his touch—this _ignited_ him. When she cried his name, her body pressed against his, he closed his eyes and let the raw euphoria in her voice carry him away. 

A moment passed. Their hearts, quieter now, found each other in the empty space and beat the same hopeful tune. 

“I want…” She reached for the words, barely aware of anything but the faint dance of his fingertips on her skin. “...to always be here, to…” He nudged the top of her head with his chin. “Don’t you _dare_ let go. Don’t ever, don’t...” 

Ethan loosened his hug just enough to look into her eyes. Slowly, he moved his hands to cradle her face. 

“Vanessa.” The air hung between them. Vanessa put a hand over his heart and smiled at his response. “Where else would I belong?” 


End file.
